


Pawprints and Pastries

by BadIdeasMakeHilariousStories



Category: Original Work
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Magic, but gentle/nervous guys and stubborn/clever women are a valid dynamic, but i still enjoy it and i thought i'd post it for fun, fairy tale adjacent, i wrote this as a short story for my creative writing class, i'm sure it has plot holes and it's from a year ago, so it's not my best work, that's why i had to keep it hetero, the only heterosexual work i've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27476374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadIdeasMakeHilariousStories/pseuds/BadIdeasMakeHilariousStories
Summary: This is just a very fluffy short story that I really enjoyed writing.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 1





	Pawprints and Pastries

“Tell me how to escape them.”

“There is no escape, darling. You can’t run from such a necessary fate.”

“Screw necessity. I won’t live like this.”

“Like what? You have all someone could dream of.”

“And I’m hunted like prey for it.”

“I suppose that’s true. What do you want, then?”

“I get a choice?”

“I trade in wishes and choices, darling. What’s yours?”

“My wish or my choice?”

“I’m generous enough to give you one of each.”

“I wish to be able to choose the right one for myself.”

“I can help you there. Here’s your choice: do you want them to know who you are right away?”

“No.”

“Well then, my darling. Good luck with the hunt!”

——————————————————————————————

A cat was hardly something rare in the city. Plenty of people had them, to chase away rats or just for companionship. A black cat with exactly three tiny white spots on its shoulder? That was decidedly less common. And if that cat could magically turn into a girl, well. That would be seen as impossibly, ridiculously, absurdly rare.

And yet, somehow, that had become a regular Saturday for Desmond. 

It started sometime in August, when the bakery was closing down for the day. Desmond had been exhausted, from the job and the general concerns of life, no matter how simple they may seem.

He was just taking the trash out. An easy chore, a necessary chore, something he could get done without even thinking about it. 

At least, that was how it usually went. But this time was different in a way that was surprising. And Desmond was a difficult man to surprise, especially when it came to things happening in the alley where he would leave his trash for the collectors. He had seen some strange things there, and things that strange didn’t even begin to cover. 

The time he saw a cat turn into a girl definitely took the cake, though. 

Desmond grumbled as he set the trash bag down, looking up the alley to see if he needed to chase away those two kids again. They had tried to set his trash on fire last time, and he really wasn’t eager for a repeat. He just wanted to go upstairs to his small home above his bakery, maybe make a nice dinner. Or take some time to read the book on berry gardening he had gotten.

Those thoughts flew from his mind when he saw the cat.

And look, he wasn’t a cat guy, not really. But there was no denying that this one was cute. It was a little black cat, with white spots on one shoulder. It was clearly a stray, but it looked well-fed. It also looked angry, which was a difficult emotion for a cat to convey, but this cat sure did a good job of it.

Desmond decided to do the rational thing when confronted with a strange, possibly feral cat in an alleyway.

He crouched down and began to beckon the cat closer.

“Here, kitty kitty kitty,” he said, feeling stupid. “You want some… uh, would you like some bread? I’ve got some good bread here. I’m even kind of known for it. Except now I might be known as the crazy guy who talks to cats.”

The cat cocked its head to the side, looking at him curiously. At least, Desmond thought it was curiosity in the cat’s eyes. 

“I’ve also got some berries, and uh. Some apples, I think. Just got some fresh apples. Any of that sound good to you?”

The cat stood on two legs.

Desmond fell backwards as it began to contort, growing in size, shifting in shape until it became…

A woman?

The woman brushed herself off. She was wearing a bright blue sundress, contrasting against pale skin and dark curly hair. She was suspiciously non-feline.

“If the offer of apples is still on the table, I think I might quite enjoy that,” she said.

Desmond stared. Opened his mouth to speak, then promptly shut it.

Out of all the things he had seen in the alleyway, this was the strangest. Or, well, there was that time that he found a man wearing nothing but a smock dancing around some trash that he had set on fire. And the time that he found those two teenagers doing things he’d really rather not remember at all. That wasn’t a strange occurrence, but usually the kids in town left his alley alone, either out of courtesy or possibly fear. 

At any rate, this was the strangest non-destructive activity his alleyway had seen in a long time.

So really, what did it matter?

“Sure,” Desmond finally replied. “Apples. Come on in.”

He opened the door and stepped in, choosing to proceed as normal.

The woman followed. “Are you going to ask me why I was a cat?”  
“No.”

“Why not?” The woman sat herself on the counter, kicking her feet lightly in the air. Desmond ignored the small voice in his head that was concerned about health regulations.

“’S not any of my business. You prefer red apples or green?”

“Hmm, I think I’d like green.”

“Right. What were you doing in my alley?”

“Hiding,” the woman answered, taking a bite of the apple Desmond gave her as soon as it was in her hand. “I was also rather hungry, and I assume this is a bakery, and it smells incredible. You work here?”

“I own the place.”

“That’s neat. Really, that’s great. Excellent, to be in charge of your own affairs.”

“I suppose it is.” Desmond responded hesitantly. “I’m Desmond. Burkhart. Desmond Burkhart.”

“Good name. Strong, even.”

“Thanks. What’s yours?”

“Cordelia.”

“Got a last name?”

“Nope.”

Desmond looked at the girl, tilting his head skeptically. “Really?”

“Well, I have one. But I think I remember being cautioned not to give my full name to strange men.”

“What about me? I already gave you my full name.”

“Yes, well, I think you’ll live. Thanks for the apple, by the way.”

“Anytime, I guess. I know I said I wouldn’t ask, but-“

“The cat thing?”

“The cat thing. Is it a curse?”

“What do you mean?”

“Bad run-in with a witch? Cursed at birth? What’s up with that?”

“Oh!” Cordelia laughed. It was a loud sound, full and rich. She let her head fall back as she did. It wasn’t what Desmond expected, but he decided immediately that it was a lovely noise. “It’s not a curse. I think curses usually have malevolent intent, and the witch was honestly trying to help me. I just worded my request a bit oddly.”

“Oddly?”

“I think I was probably too vague. I didn’t want to come right out and give her more to work with in case she did want to curse me, you know? But I guess she was just really in the mood to turn someone into a cat. It’s no matter though, I managed to work it in my favor.”

“In your favor for what?”

“Well-“

“Actually, wait. No offense meant at all, miss, but I don’t really want to know. Nothing personal, I just really don’t want to get caught up in anything other than my own job,” Desmond explained. Magic and monsters, none of it was something he wanted to be involved in. He had worked hard enough for this simple, comfortable life that he enjoyed, and changing it all up was not an exciting thought.

“That’s entirely fair, I suppose. I don’t really want to tell you, to be honest.”

“Well, that’s convenient for both of us. You want anything else to eat?”

Cordelia brightened, sitting up, narrowly avoiding hitting her head on a shelf. “You any good at making donuts? I’ve been craving one for what feels like ages.”

Desmond sighed, trying to feel annoyance instead of a spark of… something that definitely wasn’t annoyance. “What kind do you like?”

——————————————————————————————

That was how their routine began, and it continued very similarly. Desmond would finish working for the day and take out his trash. Cordelia would either be in the alley waiting for him or she would show up after a few minutes. Desmond hadn’t seen her as a cat since the first time, but due to the sudden lack of rats in the alley, he knew the transformation was still happening.

Cordelia would walk right into the bakery, sit on the counter, and proceed to talk Desmond’s ears off as he cleaned up and offered her pastries. He was unused to having someone speak to him while he worked, and was understandably confused by Cordelia’s inability to stay quiet. But he let her words fill the silence, let them wash over the empty shop as the afternoon sun slowly sank through the sky.

“You know, this is a really nice place you’ve got,” Cordelia piped up as Desmond wiped down the few tables he had neatly arranged by the windows.

“Thank you,” he grunted in reply.

“No, really, it’s lovely. The kitchen is always so clean, and the counters are too. And the little dining area? The plants on the windowsills? It’s just divine. Very relaxing. Who helped you design the place?”

“Well, my father bought the building about ten years ago-“

“No, I mean the inside. Who chose the plants, the tablecloths, the decorations?”

“Me.”

“Really? Not your mother, or a sister, or a wife?”

“Don’t have a wife, don’t have a sister, and my mother’s dead.”

“Oh.” Cordelia suddenly found it within herself to remain quiet. “I’m. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Nah, it’s been years,” Desmond said, waving her remorse away with a practiced ease. “Besides, she’d be real upset with me for how I designed the place. ‘Des, don’t you know linen tablecloths look cheap?’” He raised his voice to a comical pitch, evidently in an impression of his mother. “‘Des, why would you let the customers eat in the shop? It’s improper. Des, what are you doing with my beautiful store?’”

Cordelia’s smile was uncertain, as though she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to laugh. “She ran the bakery before you, then?”

“Oh, no, it used to be a cloth store. That’s why she’d be upset about the linen.”

“So who turned it into a bakery?”

“I did,” Desmond answered, throwing the rag he was using to clean the tables over his shoulder as he finished the task.

“Oh. Really?”

“Mhm.” Desmond stood next to Cordelia as he washed his hands, trying hard to ignore the way the air near her felt warmer than the rest of the shop.

“Huh. Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, it’s just not what I expected. Being a baker, it’s not really a man’s job, is it?” Cordelia asked. “I know that obviously anyone can choose any occupation, but-“

“I think making things is the most human quality there is. I’m not really interested in being a strong man, I’m interested in being a good human.”

“Can’t you be both?”

“Not in my experience,” Desmond said. “Every man I knew who said that baking was a job only for women turned out to be someone I didn’t want to listen to anyway. And besides, I’m good at baking. I’d be an awful carpenter or soldier.”

“Who wanted you to be a carpenter?” Cordelia laughed. “And why would they want to deprive the world of seeing you in an apron?”

Desmond was grateful that his skin was dark, otherwise his blush would be embarrassingly visible. “My dad was a carpenter, and his dad was a soldier. A captain, actually.”

“You didn’t continue the tradition?”

“Nope.”

“Mmm.” Cordelia seemed lost in her own head for a moment. “I wish that was an option for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have to keep the family business going, and I have to be married to do it.”

“Married? Your family does know that women can run businesses, right? Hell, plenty of women are landowners. Marriage isn’t a necessity now,” Desmond responded. 

“I know, but… my dad’s a bit traditional. He won’t give the business over to me unless I have a husband.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Desmond retorted, shaking his head. “I mean, you’ve already swindled me out of fresh fruit and pastries.”

“Actually, I’ve just appointed myself as your official taste-tester and quality monitor.”

“Exactly, swindling. You’d be great at running a business.”

“Yeah,” Cordelia said, smiling up at Desmond. Despite her perch on the counter, he was still nearly half a foot taller than her. “I would, wouldn’t I?”

“Mhm. Bet you’d drive all your competitors into bankruptcy.”

“But then who would I intimidate?”

“Oh, I’d still be very scared of you.”

“Really?” Cordelia laid her hand over her heart, pretending to be flattered. “Thanks, Desmond.”

“Anytime,” he replied. “Now get off the counter, I need to wipe it down.”

——————————————————————————————

Desmond found his new- friend? Customer? He didn’t really know what she was- to be a bit strange. She would willingly share the most private of details about her life, but she would never even share her parents’ names. At first it didn’t matter, but as Desmond began to factor her into his daily routine, it started to really bother him.

“Hey Desmond, what’s the special today?” Cordelia slid into the shop, earning herself a glare from the last customer, still eating in the shop.

“Got a batch of muffins for you that I think you’ll really like,” Desmond replied, taking a small tray out of the oven. “Give it a minute for them to cool off and then they’re all yours.”

“Mmm, they smell amazing.”

“Desmond Burkhart!” The man eating by the window barked. “Who’s this girl? And how come I ain’t seen her before?”

“This is Cordelia, Mr. Rex. She’s my new taste-tester,” Desmond called back, grinning. 

“Mhm. You know you gotta tell me when you get a girlfriend, Desmond.”

“I’m a grown man, Mr. Rex, I think I’m allowed to have a love life. But Cordelia is just, uh. She’s not a girlfriend, that’s for sure.”

“Right. Miss Cordelia, you come talk to me.”

“Er, ok?” Cordelia shot a look at Desmond, clearly confused. Desmond just shrugged, turning back to his muffins. He didn’t turn around again, trying to decide if he wanted to make another batch, until he heard his front door open and close.

“Well, Mr. Rex is very protective of you. Apparently you’re ‘a cornerstone of the community.’” Cordelia said lightly, coming to sit on the counter next to where Desmond was standing. 

“Yeah, well. Mr. Rex practically raised me, he has to say stuff like that.”

“Doesn’t make it less true,” Cordelia replied. “I see the way people come in here all the time. I hear the way people talk about you. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Rex wasn’t the only one with that opinion.”

“It’s just that I managed to start the bakery up,” Desmond shrugged. “They’re not used to people staying around here when they get old enough to leave.”

“But you did. You stayed.” The air around them felt tense, like a rubber band stretched far enough to snap.

“Yeah, I did. Didn’t see a need to go anywhere else, I got people I care about right here.”

Cordelia nodded thoughtfully. “I guess that makes sense. Right, anyway, I want a muffin, and you are contractually obligated to feed me.”

“When did I agree to that?” Desmond laughed, breaking the odd tension surrounding them.

“When you gave me an apple for the first time. Didn’t you know apples are a legally binding fruit?”

“Well, then, maybe you shouldn’t have these muffins.” Desmond lifted the tray off the stove and out of Cordelia’s reach.

“Hey! That’s not how that works!” Cordelia hopped off the counter, trying and failing to grab the muffins. Desmond held them high above his head, laughing as Cordelia jumped to get to them.

“Tell you what, how about we make a deal?” Desmond said, stepping back as Cordelia took another swipe at the tray.

She paused. “I’m listening.”

“I’ll give you one muffin… if you tell me three things about you that I don’t already know.”

Cordelia groaned. “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Burkhart. I’m not sure I can afford it.”

“They’re cinnamon apple muffins.”

“You got yourself a deal.” Cordelia looked at him expectantly. “Muffin, please?”

“Oh, no, see, I never mentioned the timing. You get the muffin after you talk.” Desmond set the tray down on the counter and positioned himself in front of it.

“What? That was not agreed upon!” Cordelia reached around Desmond to steal a muffin. He caught her wrist easily but gently, lightly holding it at his side.

“Uh uh. Talking, then treats. Start whenever you want.”

Cordelia huffed, but made no move to free her hand. “Fine. Ok, three things?”

“Three things. And I reserve the right to ask questions.”

“God, the things I do just because you make the best food I’ve ever had… ok. Fact number one: I have gotten three private tutors to quit their jobs.”

“How’d you manage that?” Desmond chuckled.

“Well, the first one hated me from the beginning, so it wasn’t quite my fault. I think it was releasing a toad into her bedroom that finally chased her off.”

“You did what?” Desmond stepped back to put the muffins on the counter behind him, releasing Cordelia’s hand. He suddenly missed the warmth of it.

“Yep. Seven year old Cordelia was an interesting kid. Thirteen year old Cordelia though, she knew what was going on. She didn’t mess around with toads, she just kissed the tutor’s son.”

“And that scared her off?”

“More like it got my dad to fire her. And then eighteen year old Cordelia just started a fight.”

“Eighteen year old? Aren’t you twenty-one?”

“Yeah? What’s that got to do with it?”

“You had a tutor up until three years ago? I stopped going to school seven years ago.”

“Really? You stopped going when you were fifteen?”

“Yeah, my dad needed help more often. Couldn’t do all the work himself while dead drunk.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Nah, no problem. Back to your stories though. You chased off three tutors, that’s fact one. Time for another,” Desmond said. Cordelia groaned.

“Can’t I have a muffin yet?”

“Nope. Fact two, go.”

“Ok, ok. I… have never been good at making friends.”

“What? You mean people aren’t typically endeared by you never shutting up and bothering them and stealing their food?”

“Hey, I’m a taste-tester,” Cordelia defended. “And no. I never really knew a lot of kids growing up, so by the time my parents actually wanted me to make friends, I just didn’t know how.”

Desmond’s usual smile slid off his face. Thinking of a young Cordelia who was all alone, it caused an odd feeling in his chest, as though his heart was being squeezed slightly.

Cordelia just laughed, although there was no hint of actual amusement. “What’s with the sad face? It wasn’t so bad. I like to think I turned out pretty good.”

“Yeah, sure. I just. You know you have a friend now, right?” Desmond asked. Maybe it was presumptuous to call them friends, but he didn’t care. He just wanted- no, needed Cordelia to know that she wasn’t alone.

“Yeah, I know,” Cordelia murmured. Then she smiled. “Mr. Rex is truly the best friend a girl could ask for.”

“Jerk,” Desmond responded easily. “Now come on. You’re so close to your muffin, just one more fact.”

“Right. Fact three.” Cordelia stepped closer. Desmond shifted backwards, unable to move as he found himself suddenly trapped against the counter. “Fact three is that-” she leaned in and brought herself up, bringing her face almost to Desmond’s level. He gulped, suddenly able to see a few freckles dusted across the girl’s face- “you really suck at staying focused.”

Desmond blinked. “What?”

Cordelia danced backwards, muffin in hand. “You concentrate on all the wrong things, Desmond. All the wrong things. But I have to admit, the cinnamon apple combination? Good stuff, really.”

“You… you. You cheater!” Desmond cried out. “You give that back!”

“Come get it,” Cordelia grinned.

And proceeded to take off, leaving Desmond alone in the kitchen, laughing quietly to himself.

——————————————————————————————

Desmond didn’t realize how much he had come to expect Cordelia’s appearances until they stopped.

For three days, Cordelia didn’t appear. Three days of Desmond staring at the back door she usually waltzed right through, three days of him being distracted at work. It was three days of confusion and worry. She didn’t leave his mind the whole time. What if something had happened to her? It was dangerous enough for a girl to walk alone through town at night, which she must have done to get home. Along with that, if anyone had figured out that Cordelia could change shapes through magic, she’d be even more of a target.

These thoughts plagued Desmond, refusing to let him work or sleep or have any peace. He was worried about Cordelia, but he was also worried about how much he had come to expect her to show up. He had come to rely on her presence more than he should. He was independent, he was good enough on his own. He had been on his own for a long time, he was well-used to it. 

So why did it hurt so much that he seemed to be alone again?

Desmond shook his head, physically attempting to dislodge his thoughts. He had to close up the shop anyway. And some alone time would be good for him, a nice break. He could eat in the quiet and read in silence, the way he always used to. He wouldn’t think about how he missed the noise of Cordelia’s chatter. He wouldn’t.

But he inevitably did.

Desmond looked up from his book, unable to focus on the words. He stared out his window, looking carefully at the street for any stray cats. He was still and silent, much like the night he was observing.

Or at least, the night was still and silent until he heard a crash from the bakery downstairs.

Rushing down the stairs, Desmond felt panic coursing through him. His bakery was all he had, his only source of income. If someone was stealing ingredients or trying to rob him, he would have to fight them off, he couldn’t afford to lose much of anything.

On the other hand, Desmond wondered as he quietly opened the door that led from the staircase to the bakery, what if this was a starving person? What if they were homeless and just needed a warm place to stay and a decent meal? What if it was someone who needed help instead of a fight, what if it was-

What if it was Cordelia, stumbling around like a moron in the dark, covering half of her face, swearing so loudly that Desmond was surprised he hadn’t heard her?

He flipped on the lights. “Cordelia?”

“Oh hey-“ more whispered cursing as Cordelia bumped into the counter- “Des. Good to see you!”

“What in the seven hells are you doing?”

“Well, your door was locked, see, so I maybe definitely broke your window to get in.”

“You broke my… you… Why?”

“Why what?” Cordelia asked casually, as though this was a perfectly normal occurrence. She still had her hand over the left side of her face.

“Why did you break into my bakery?!”

“Oh. Well, it’s been a few days, and I missed you, so I thought I’d stop by. Love the place at night, you know, the absence of people and light gives it this very spooky aura.”

“Cordelia. Cordelia. What the fuck.”

“Yeah yeah. Got any ice?”

“Ice? What do you need ice for- oh god.” Desmond nearly stopped breathing when Cordelia uncovered her face. In the stark kitchen light, the black eye she had stood out against the paleness of her skin, the bruising harsh and painful-looking. Her face was a bit dirty, and now that Desmond was really looking at her, he could see other small cuts on her arms and legs, along with a few bruises.

“Yeah. So, ice?”

Desmond stared for another second before gathering himself. “Yeah. Follow me.” He reached out to take Cordelia’s hand, but immediately backtracked when she flinched. He thought for a moment, then offered her his arm to take or ignore as she pleased. 

Cordelia hesitated, looking at him for a long moment. Then she laid her hand gently on his arm, letting him lead her out of the kitchen. Desmond took her up the stairs, going slower than usual, mindful of Cordelia’s injuries.

“You know, I was once escorted like this at a very fancy event,” Cordelia said. “Wearing a nice dress and all. Except we were walking down the stairs at the time. Actually I was walking down the stairs. I was alone at the time. Not alone alone, but you know-“

“I wish I was alone right now,” Desmond groaned playfully. Cordelia smacked his arm. 

“I am a delight, I am a privilege, a luxury, if you will.”

“I won’t. Come on in.” Desmond opens the door to his apartment. It’s a small space, with a little living room and kitchen and a door to his bedroom and bathroom. It’s clearly lived-in, and Desmond couldn’t help but wish that he had had a little bit of warning so he could clean up. Not because he wanted to impress Cordelia or anything like that, but for courtesy. Definitely for courtesy. 

“Cute place.” Cordelia looked around appraisingly.

“Yeah, sorry about the mess.”

“What? No, it’s really nice. It looks like someone has actually made it into a home. Also, I didn’t take you for much or a reader, but suddenly I’m thinking you hoard books?”

“Oh, yeah. Had to quit school, but I loved reading. I would save up all the time to get a new book. Mr. Rex, he runs the bookshop a couple streets down. He got so used to seeing me in there that he’ll just let me borrow a book whenever I want so long as I don’t let it get damaged.”

Cordelia smiled up at Desmond. “That’s how you met him?”

“Yeah, I spent a lot of time in that shop, asking him what was new and what he thought of it.” Desmond grinned, lost in his own memories and completely missing Cordelia’s fond little smile. “But uh. Anyway. Go ahead and have a seat, I’ll get some ice, see if I can find a few bandages.”

Cordelia sat on the couch as Desmond looked around through the kitchen. He tried to ignore how it seemed like she belonged there. 

She had been gone for so long. Clearly, it wasn’t exactly voluntary, but she had still been gone and he had let it get to him. He had let an impermanent situation become something he anticipated. It was a mistake.

He kept making it anyway.

“Ok, got the ice,” Desmond grunted, coming to kneel in front of Cordelia. “Here, let’s just…”

He gently placed the small bag of ice against Cordelia’s black eye. She gasped quietly at the cold, her good eye widening. Desmond had never noticed how green her eyes were.

“Yeah, sorry. The cold might sting a little, but it’s the best way to deal with it.”

“It’s ok,” Cordelia said shakily. “I don’t mind.”

“Ok. In that case, I’m gonna try and clean some of these cuts, alright?”

“Yeah, be my guest. Except I’m the guest at the moment.”

“Very funny. Let me know if anything hurts more than it’s supposed to.”

Cordelia nodded. Desmond took that as understanding and grabbed a cloth to gently dab at the small scrapes on her arms.

Silence fell over them as Desmond carefully did his best to clean and bandage Cordelia’s injuries. He tried to avoid thinking about how she could have gotten hurt. It seemed he generally tried to avoid thinking about Cordelia at all lately.

As Desmond finished placing the last bandage, he noticed two things. The first was that the bag of ice was now sitting on Cordelia’s lap, not being held against her bruised eye. The second was that she had clearly removed it herself, as she was now watching Desmond. There was something inexpressible in her eyes, visible even through the swelling of the bruise.

“Hey,” Desmond broke the silence unable to simply hold Cordelia’s gaze any longer. “You have to keep this on there for it to work.” He took the ice and held it against her eye himself. 

“Yes, well, my arm was getting tired. We can’t all have muscles like yours. How’d you get those as a baker anyway?”

“Have to keep healthy. If you want to eat good food, you have to be able to work it off.”

“Or you could eat good food and be naturally beautiful,” Cordelia said. The words were teasing, but her tone was soft.

“We can’t all be as lucky as you.”

Cordelia smiled. “You think I’m beautiful, huh?”

“Well, objectively, I mean. You know, like how you can acknowledge that a man is handsome without being actually attracted to him. I could say a man had nice hair and not feel any attraction to him.” Desmond couldn’t stop words from spilling out of his mouth, blushing heavily and avoiding Cordelia’s eyes.

“But you didn’t say I had beautiful hair. You said I was beautiful,” Cordelia continued to tease.

“Clearly a lapse in judgement.”

“Evidently.”

Desmond grinned as Cordelia giggled. As she looked down at him, her face softened.

“You’re not bad-looking yourself, Des. Not even a little bit.”

——————————————————————————————

After that, Cordelia’s regular visits became steady again. She wouldn’t tell Desmond how she had gotten injured, but she never showed up with so much as a bruise on her again, so he was willing to let the matter be put to rest. He never did fully bury it in his mind, however, and he kept a small bag of bandages under the counter in the kitchen.

“Hey Des, what’s the special for today?” Cordelia waltzed through the back door that Desmond didn’t bother locking anymore.

“No specials, we closed early.” Desmond gestured at the already-cleaned kitchen. “I got all my experimental baking out of the way.”

“Oh, boo. Nothing for me to try?”

“Nothing.” Desmond was struck silently by the thought that if there was no food, Cordelia might leave. “But, if you’d like to stick around anyway-“

“Oh, of course I’m staying,” Cordelia replied easily. “As long as it’s ok with you?” Her tone was purely curious but her eyes belied nervousness.

“Any time. This place is yours too.” 

“Great!” The nervousness disappeared, replaced by enthusiasm. “In that case, I have an idea for how to spend the time!”

“How’s that?” Desmond grinned. 

“Take me dancing.”

“Uh, what?”

“You’ve got to have a dance hall or something around here, right?”

“Yeah, the community center, but how did you know there was a dance tonight?”

“I just assumed the universe would bend itself to my will, and it would seem that it did. Will you bring me there or not?”

“No.”

“Well, why not?”

“Can’t dance.”

“What?” Cordelia looked alarmed, gasping and taking a step back. “What the hell do you mean, you can’t dance?”

“Can’t do it,” Desmond shrugged. “No one ever really showed me how.”

“Well that won’t do at all, will it? C’mon, stop leaning on the counter, I’m teaching you.”

“You’re teaching me?” Desmond laughed. “Are you some secret dancing expert?”

“I took lessons for most of my life, I’m sure I can teach you. Now come on!”

“Cordelia, we haven’t got any music.”

“Don’t need it. We…” Cordelia paused dramatically as she pulled Desmond away from the counter. “Shall dance to the song of our hearts.”

“My heart’s song seems to be out of tune.”

“Oh, shut up and put your hands on me.”

Desmond choked on air. “What?”

“Hands on my waist, I’m going to teach you to waltz first. Hurry up, we’ve only got an hour before nightfall.”

“I need to learn this by nightfall?”

“If you want to take me dancing.”

“When did I agree to that?” 

“When you became my first friend ever. Now, would you listen to me, please?”

Desmond couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face at the acknowledgement of their friendship. “Alright.”

“Good. Now, hands on my waist.” Cordelia sighed as Desmond gently placed his hands on her waistline. “Ok. Now, it’s best if I see what I’m working with. Just follow my lead, ok? When I step back, you step forwards. If I step forwards, you go back. When I move to the side, what do you do?”

“Move with you,” Desmond answered.

“Good. Now, one, two, three, one, two, three-“

Cordelia led the pair around the dining are in a small waltz, careful to not bump them into any table as they moved.

“Is this ok?” Desmond asked nervously.

“Actually, yeah. You’re a natural at this, Des.” Cordelia smiled up at him.

“Just following your lead,” Desmond replied. 

“Yes, I suppose I am a natural leader.”

“Mhm.”

They continued to waltz in silence for a few minutes, or perhaps longer. Desmond wasn’t sure, time with Cordelia always seemed to pass far too quickly, leaving him feeling as though he barely got any time with her at all.

“I think you’ve got this down.” Cordelia eventually broke the silence. “You’re a fast learner.”

“You’re a good teacher.”

“Of course I am, but you’re still good at this. Now, what kind of other dances do you do at this community center?”

“Oh, I don’t usually go. But I think it’s just sort of normal dancing?”

“Desmond, you do know there are different styles of dancing, right?”

“Um. Yes.”

“Oh god.”

And as it turns out, there were different styles of dancing, all of which Cordelia laughed her way through, moving easily to the music. Desmond avoided dancing for most of the night, choosing to watch Cordelia make friends and dance the hours away. The community center was lit up, lanterns hanging everywhere, light bouncing off of the polished instruments of the band. 

Desmond laughed as Cordelia spun a little girl around the dance for, grinning at the girl’s shrieks of laughter.

“What’chu laughing at, Desmond?” Mr. Rex ambled over and sat beside him.

“Ah, just enjoying the night.”

“You never used to come to these things, and yet, here you sit. There a reason for that?”

“Cordelia wanted to come,” Desmond answered simply.

“Gotta keep the girlfriend happy, right?”

“Not my girlfriend.”

“But you want her to be,” Mr. Rex said wisely. “Which is good, cuz she sure wants you.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Rex.” Desmond turned away, facing the dance floor again. “She doesn’t want me, and I’m not the type to get a girlfriend.”

“I don’t think there’s a specific type.”

“The point is, Cordelia and I are just friends, and that’s how we’re gonna stay.”

“Yeah, right. I see the way you two look at each other. Reminds me of me and my husband before he passed. Don’t miss out on a chance at love, Desmond. That’s the kind of thing worth changing for, worth fighting for.”

With that, Mr. Rex stood and walked away, leaving Desmond to ponder his words. 

Although, he didn’t get to think on them for very long.

“Desmond! C’mon, it’s time to waltz!” Cordelia bounced up to him, face shining with unbridled joy.

“Ok, ok, I’m coming.” Desmond allowed himself to be pulled out of his seat and on to the dance floor.

The band began to play a slower song, but a happy-sounding one. It stirred Desmond’s heart, made him feel content. Or perhaps the content feeling came from the girl in his arms, he wasn’t quite sure.

“You’re doing good,” Cordelia murmured. “A few more lessons and you’d be an excellent dancer.”

“I don’t think it’s really my thing.”

“And yet you’re here.”

“For you, yeah. Not sure if you noticed, but I am a sophisticated gentleman who is entirely willing to sacrifice his dignity for a fair lady,” Desmond teased.

“I wasn’t aware you had dignity to sacrifice,” Cordelia replied.

“Ouch, that one stung.”

“Oh, hush. You love it.” Cordelia stepped closer, resting her head on Desmond’s chest.

“Um, Cordelia? This makes it a bit hard to waltz.”

“Then don’t waltz. Just… just hold me, and sway a bit. Yeah, like that. Perfect. You’re perfect, Desmond.”

Desmond really hoped she couldn’t hear the way his heart sped up after that.

——————————————————————————————

After the dance, things had felt different with Cordelia. Maybe it was just his awareness of his own feelings towards her, but Desmond felt something new in the air between them. Where there had been teasing remarks and easy laughs, there were now soft smiles and nervous movements. It wasn’t entirely different, the teasing and laughter remained, but it was softer now, fonder.

The visits were longer, too. Cordelia stayed at least until it got dark, and often lingered past that point as well. Once, a few weeks after the dance, she and Desmond stayed down in the bakery so late that they fell asleep at a table, only waking when Mr. Rex knocked the door to see why it wasn’t open.

Desmond didn’t want to think about why things felt different, didn’t want to hold out hope. He may have possibly, slightly, just maybe the tiniest bit in love with Cordelia, but she most definitely did not feel the same way about him, so there was no point. He would bury his feelings somewhere deep inside his heart and it would be fine.

It would be fine.

“Hey. How’s that new book you got, the one with the weird fairy cult?” Cordelia hopped up to sit on the counter as she watched Desmond stir a bowl of batter.

“It’s good, actually. The fairy cult has the weirdest way of accepting sacrifices, remind me to read you that bit later.”

“Sure thing. Oh, hey, I brought you flowers. Well, a flower.” Cordelia brought a daisy out from a pocket in her skirt. “I saw a whole bunch of them growing in a field, and I thought you’d like them.”

“It’s pretty,” Desmond smiled. “But what should I do with it?”

“Wear it in your hair?” Cordelia suggested.

“I don’t really have enough hair to wear it in.” Desmond ran a hand over his closely-cropped haircut. He kept it short to avoid getting it in any food and it made the hair easier to keep clean. 

“I guess that’s true. How about this?” Cordelia pulled Desmond close to her. His breath hitched as she cupped his face, the flower held delicately in one hand. She gently placed the stem between his ear and his head, letting the flower hang there. “There we go. That’ll do it.”

“Yeah? How do I look?”

“Cute, actually. You look cute.”

“I am a grown, 6’4, large and buff man, and you think I look cute?” Desmond’s tone was full of disbelief. 

“Wow, ego much? But yes, you look cute. I’m not wrong.”

“Cordelia, I could lift and throw you.”

“Doesn’t stop you from being cute,” Cordelia sang. “In fact, it makes you cuter.”

“You’re a nuisance.”

“I’m a delight.”

“For who?”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I am a ray of sunshine in your otherwise dreary life.”

“My life is not dreary!” Desmond protested.

“Oh yeah? What was the most interesting thing to happen to you before me?”

Desmond paused. He thought carefully back to the times before Cordelia.

He decided they weren’t worth thinking about very much.

“You are the most interesting thing to ever happen to me,” he admitted. “The best thing to ever happen to me, I think.”

“Oh.” Cordelia’s mocking demeanor was gone in an instant, replaced by the side of her that picked daisies because she though Desmond would like them. The softer side of her, the side that only really came out when they were alone.

The side of her that Desmond selfishly wished to keep all to himself.

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have brought it up-“

“No, I don’t mind. It’s the truth. Life was just kind of colorless, and now… now it’s not.”

“Desmond Burkhart, are you saying I brought color into your world?”

He laughed self-consciously. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“What’s your favorite color, then?” Cordelia asked. “Now that your world is flooded with it.”

Desmond paused yet again to think. Although, he wasn’t really thinking, he was deciding. He was deciding how much of himself he was ready to give.

There was only one answer.

“Green,” Desmond breathed out. “Like the grass in the field you got the daisy from. Like the apple I gave you, the day that we met. Like your eyes. Your eyes are the best shade of green, the most beautiful. That’s my favorite color.”

Cordelia blinked up at him. She looked confused, then thoughtful. Desmond wouldn’t know it until she told him later, but she was deciding how much of herself she was ready to give.

She came to the same answer.

All at once, a resolute expression took over Cordelia’s face. She tugged at the apron Desmond still wore, pulling him close, and tenderly pressed her lips to his.

Desmond had imagined kissing Cordelia. He had tried to stop, but the thoughts had invaded his mind anyway. He had expected butterflies, fireworks, all of the odd but nice-sounding things he had read in his books.

He felt none of those things. Kissing Cordelia felt like sinking into a warm bed. It felt like a rainy day spent inside with tea and pastries. It felt like all of the small joys of life rolled into one. It felt like contentment. 

It felt like coming home.

After a long moment, Cordelia pulled away. Desmond kept his eyes closed for a second, hoping to prolong the feeling. When he opened them, he found Cordelia staring back at him.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’ve just wanted to do that since that dance, and you said you loved my eyes, and I couldn’t think of a better moment. I should’ve asked, I shouldn’t have just surprised you like that-“

“Please feel free to surprise me like that any time you want to,” Desmond interrupted.

“Really?”

“Yes. I mean, god, Cordelia, could you not tell how much I wanted to kiss you?”

“Not really! I was confused, I thought you just wanted to be friends!” Cordelia laughed. Desmond laughed with her, overwhelmed with joy.

“No! Well, I do love being your friend, but I’d love to be more. That is, if you’d have me?” 

“Hmm. Tempting offer, but I’m not quite sure.” Cordelia tapped her chin, pretending to consider it.

“Perhaps I could sweeten the deal?”

“How so?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Would you like an apple?” Desmond offered with a smile.

“You know what? An apple sounds lovely,” Cordelia answered.

After she ate the apple, she kissed him again. Desmond had never liked apples before, but suddenly they didn’t taste very bad at all.

————————————————————————————————

After they had kissed, Desmond had thought that things would change greatly between him and Cordelia. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Nothing changed between them at all, except that Cordelia would kiss him fondly after mocking him, and he would wrap his arms around her at any opportunity. Desmond couldn’t get enough of the affection, taking any and every chance to even casually touch Cordelia. When he read aloud to her in his living room, she laid across the couch with her head in his lap. When they were in the kitchen, he would hug her anytime she so much as smiled at him, pressing kisses to the top of her head while she giggled into his chest.

They settled into this new routine rather easily. Each day, Desmond only grew more comfortable with Cordelia, and he knew he was falling deeper and deeper in love with her. He hadn’t told her yet, hadn’t even said it out loud, but he knew that was what he was feeling. And despite his doubts, he thought Cordelia might even feel the same.

As Desmond thought about this, he sat down and stared out the window. It was nearly the time that Cordelia showed up, and he found himself becoming more impatient to see her with every second that ticked by.

These thoughts were soon erased from his mind, however. When he stared out the window, Desmond noticed a sort of commotion just down the street. He looked at the back door, torn between waiting for Cordelia and seeing what was going on. As the commotion outside seemed to get bigger, he decided that if Cordelia showed up, she would know to wait for him. He scrawled out a quick note just in case, and was out the door within a minute.

Desmond quickly realized that the commotion was the noise of a crowd, circling around something he couldn’t quite see. He pushed his way through the mass of people, making his way to the front. There, he saw a man, well dressed and armed, with a sword strapped to his hip and a bow slung over his back, along with a quiver full of arrows. Desmond deduced that he was a hunter, but that seemed no reason for a crowd.

It was then that he heard the screech. A terrible yowling, from a small trap on the ground. The hunter must have caught an animal, but hadn’t managed to quite kill it yet. The crowd made much more sense.

Desmond was just about to turn and go back home when the hunter triumphantly called out. “I have won the contest!” He shouted with glee. “I have won the Lady Rue’s hand in marriage!”

With that, the hunter lifted the trap. And there, clearly upset with being caught, was a cat.

A terribly familiar cat.

“Cordelia!” Desmond shouted. Sure enough, the cat turned towards him. It was her, back in the form that Desmond had first seen her in. She didn’t look hurt, but she was clearly scared.

“Hey! Hey!” Desmond shouted, getting the hunter’s attention. “That’s my cat you caught! Give her back!”

“Liar!” The hunter screamed back. “This is the cat that Lady Rue set loose. Whoever caught it would win her hand in marriage, and I caught it. You will not take it from me!”

“Listen, I don’t know anything about Lady Rue, or her hand in marriage, but that’s my cat!” Desmond was beginning to feel desperate.”Look, just let her go for a moment. I’ve trained her to come to me when I call her name. If I call her name and she comes to me, then she’s my cat. If not, then she’s all yours, and you can bring her to Lady whoever.” 

Desmond could only hope that Cordelia had heard him. The hunter sniffed. “Fine. Call her up, then, and we shall see.”

“Right.” Desmond squatted down, looking at Cordelia. “Here, Delia. Come here, girl. C’mon, Delia, let’s go home.” Cordelia ran towards him, scampering up into his arms and curling up against him, purring happily. Desmond stood up, facing the hunter. “Told you. I’m sorry, but this just isn’t the cat you’re looking for.”

“This is ridiculous,” the hunter fumed. “But fine. Get out of here.”

Desmond, needing no further direction, turned and went back to the bakery. 

As soon as he got inside, Cordelia began to shift and stretch. He continued to hold her as she changed back into a woman, ending up with her in his arms in a bridal carry.

“Wow. You really weren’t kidding about being able to lift me, huh?” Cordelia spoke up. Desmond smiled tightly and set her down.

“Care to explain what the hell happened out there? Because something tells me that the hunter wasn’t just deranged, and there’s a reason he went after you.”

“Ok, before I explain, let me just do this,” Cordelia said. She stepped towards him determinedly, grabbed his face, and kissed him.

The kiss was unlike any they had shared before. Those had been gentle, soft and sweet. This was passionate, fiery, and damn near mind-numbing. Desmond kissed her back, helpless to do anything but follow her lead in this, the same way he had when they waltzed.

Cordelia pulled back, breaking the kiss suddenly, leaving Desmond chasing her lips. “Explanation now?”

“Um. Yes, yeah, explain, please.”

“Ok. So, I haven’t been entirely honest with you. Well, I haven’t directly lied to you either, but I definitely omitted the full truth. There’s a reason I never told you my last name.”

Desmond stared blankly at her. “Ok?”

Cordelia laughed. “Ok. My name, my full name, is Lady Cordelia Elizabeth Rue, daughter of Lord Rue of Westshire.” She curtsied. “Gracefully at your service.”

Desmond’s jaw dropped. “You. You’re. I. What?!”

“Yes, I think that’s a rather appropriate reaction. It’s a rather dramatic situation. Do close your mouth though, you’ll catch flies.”

“You’re Lady Rue?”

“The one and only.”

“I thought the hunter said he won your hand in marriage.”

“Yes.”

“But you were the cat he captured.”

“Yes.”

“This is a really awful explanation, because I’m even more confused than I was before,” Desmond said. He sank into a chair, staring up at Cordelia in disbelief.

“Yeah, let me start at the beginning. About seven months ago, I overheard my parents discussing me. They were setting up an arranged marriage, which I wanted no part of. I ran off into the forest, where I met a witch.”

“And she turned you into a cat?”

“Sort of, yes. I asked her how to escape my fate, and she told me I needed no escape, that I had all anyone could wish for. I told her I felt like prey, and she gave me two things. A wish and a choice. I wished to be able to choose a husband for myself. She gave me the choice of letting the men know who I was right away or not. I chose not. So the witch gave me the ability to turn into a cat. Or, I didn’t know it was an ability until I realized I could turn back. That was a frightful day, that one.”

“I’m still confused.”

“I’m getting there, don’t worry. So, after wondering how the hell the cat thing would help, I came up with something. A noble hunt. I would tell a number of eligible bachelors that in order to win my hand in marriage, they must catch the cat that I told them about.”

“You were the cat.”

“Yes. That way, I could ensure that only the right man would catch me, because I could fight off any I didn’t like. At least, I thought I could. I wasn’t expecting Lance of Easton to catch me, that’s certain.”

“Lance of Easton was the hunter?” Desmond clarified.

“Yes. Look, Desmond, I know I lied to you, and I’m sorry for that. Trust me, you have no idea how sorry I am. I should have told you so much sooner, but every time I came here was the best part of my day, and I couldn’t stand to lose it. Then I fell in love with you, and losing you was out of the question, so I kept it a secret. I didn’t want you to feel betrayed or lied to. But I did lie to you, and betrayed your trust, and I fully understand if you don’t want to see me again.”

Desmond’s head was buzzing with the new information, hundreds of questions forming in his mind. Only one seemed important at that moment, though. “You’re in love with me?”

“I- Oh. I did say that, didn’t I?” Cordelia looked down at the floor. “Yes, I’m in love with you. But you don’t have to consider that, how I feel doesn’t really matter if-“

“How you feel always matters,” Desmond responded, getting out of his chair and walking over to her. “Especially right now, because I’d really like to know if that was true.”

“If what was true?”

“You’re in love with me.”

“Well, yeah, of course I am. I can’t really imagine not loving you, actually.”

“Oh, good,” Desmond sighed. “Because I’m in love with you too.”

He tried to kiss her, after that, but they were both smiling too hard to manage it. So they just stood there, foreheads pressed together, warmed by the last rays of the afternoon sun.

————————————————————————————————

No one in Westshire really knows what became of Lady Cordelia Elizabeth Rue. Some say she went mad after being cursed by a witch, some say she killed herself, and others say she ran off after nearly being forced to marry.

Mrs. Cordelia Burkhart laughs at the many comments of the townsfolk. “You look just like the lost Lady!” They tell her as she gives them their pastries in the mornings.

“My, what a compliment,” she answers. “Alas, I’ve not a drop of noble blood in me. I’m a Burkhart, not a Rue.”

Nobody ever does make the connection between the baker’s wife and the missing daughter of Lord Rue. They’re simply happy for the baker, who was alone for so long but had finally met his match.

Indeed, the only oddity found in the baker’s family was that, despite swearing they only ever adopted one cat, a small black cat could often be spotted with a fat orange one on the baker’s windowsill. The black cat often had a daisy woven into its fur, and only seemed to stick around when there were apples to be eaten.

————————————————————————————————

**Author's Note:**

> There's no reason for me to post this, but I found it sitting in my notes and I thought it'd be fun to put it out. It's just a nice, happy story, which I enjoy creating. I don't expect anyone to really read it, given that it's an original work, but if you did, I hope you enjoyed it. Leave a comment or kudos if you want to, and have a great day/night!


End file.
